


Meant To Bean

by Captain_Meowvel



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Accidental Identity Reveal, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Fluff, Adrinette | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Angst, Beta-read by writeringoodfaith, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, Hot Cocoa, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Humor, Identity Reveal, Kissing, MLF December 2020, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Knows, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Identity Reveal, Post-Season/Series 03, Prompt Fic, post ny special
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Meowvel/pseuds/Captain_Meowvel
Summary: After stumbling across Chat Noir's identity, Marinette's thrown through a few dozen loops—but there's little her homemade hot cocoa can't fix.(Adrienette full reveal. Post NY special.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 28
Kudos: 78
Collections: December 2020 - Advent Calendar





	Meant To Bean

**Author's Note:**

> Bonjour! This two-shot, using the prompt 'hot chocolate/cocoa', is for an advent calendar event on the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server. Hope you enjoy the first part! :)

It started as most of her blunders do: with an Adrien-induced stupor.

It’d been a Friday, dull and drizzling, a promise of thunderstorms—so she’d brewed a batch of homemade hot cocoa for the whole class.

Naturally, it was a hit.

Especially with a certain blond bean.

Adrien sang praise about her talent, beautifully eloquent and heart-meltingly honest, and as always, his words warmed her heart, wrapping her in her own personal globe of golden sand and lustrous sun.

Bye bye, brain.

Didn’t need one anyway.

But with an imminent photoshoot, he went on to bag his school tablet and slung his grey messenger bag over one shoulder.

Expecting him to be on his merry way, Marinette seized up when he turned to her instead. “Thanks again for the delicious hot cocoa, Marinette.” His sunshine smile was on full display, much to the detriment of her wildly thrumming heart. “I'm so lucky to have a friend like you.”

After easing the classroom door open, Adrien looked back at everyone with a wave and a brief farewell.

Her breath hitched.

Because she swore his eyes lingered on her the longest, and that she’d glimpsed the makings of a frown.

Then, he stepped out into the open air of early winter, leaving her thoughts to unravel. Was he sad to be leaving her? Does he feel the same way? What if—

No no no no.

More than likely, Adrien was just disappointed to be leaving everyone (read: not just her) behind for a photoshoot.

Yes. Of course. That was way, way, way more likely—

_Bzz!_

Straightening in her seat, Marinette plucked her phone from her front pocket. One glance at its screen had her stifling a groan.

Mr Pigeon—again—inconveniencing Paris, like a blown light bulb or a missing left sock, for the sixty-third time. Or was it the sixty-fourth? Sixty- _fifth_?

With a flimsy excuse and Miss Bustier’s approval, Marinette raced through the drizzling rain, into the locker room, and shoved the bathroom door with one hand.

That’s when it happened.

Plagg zipped out of sight—and out of sight, as it turned out, was into Adrien’s shirt.

Her jaw fell open, hanging from its hinges.

Just like her busted brain.

He stood near a row of ceramic sinks: mouth agape, pupils like pinpricks, shoulders up near his ears. “Ma – Marinette,” he squeaked, lips twitching into a smile. “Is – Is everything okay—”

She threw up her hands as if shielding herself from an incoming train. “I saw nothing!” The stupidity of that statement struck a second too late. “I – I mean I _did_ , but I – I—”

_I won’t tell a soul._

_I’m Ladybug._

“—I left a stove on the pan! See ya later! Bye!”

Marinette hit the wall, backtracked, raced out the door so fast she might’ve shattered the speed of sound.

Fortunately, Adrien didn’t follow. Not that she’d given him much of a chance. She zoomed into the women’s bathroom, staggered into a cubicle and slammed her back to the door.

“Marinette!” Tikki whizzed from her pink clutch. “What happened?”

Marinette’s fingers, flat against the graffitied door, quivered along with her lips. “Plagg! Adrien! I – I saw him, Tikki! I _saw_ him!” Her chest heaved with her every breath. “He flew. He flew into – into _Adrien’s pocket_!” She peeled her fingers from the cubicle door, hands flying to her scalp. “He’s – He’s—”

“Calm down, Marinette,” Tikki cried, holding up her tiny hands. “Everything’ll be okay—”

“How can you say that, Tikki?” Her hands flew about, knuckles bumping the cubicle walls. “This – This is a catastrophe! No no no no!” Her pigtails bobbed with a wild shake of her head. “It’s a disaster! A complete and utter _disaster_!”

Tikki’s eyes were round and imploring. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Marinette, but you’re the Guardian now”—the soft cadence of her kwami’s voice had her slackening, if only a little—“so if anyone were to learn his secret identity, who better than you?”

Her eyes darted from Tikki to her flats and back again. “But what am I supposed to _tell_ him?” She proceeded to embrace her inner-actress. “Hi, Adrien. Guess what? _I’m_ Ladybug. Y’know? The girl who’s been _rejecting_ you for _over a year_. Well, get this! All this time, it turns out I’ve kinda sorta been _crazy in love with you_ —”

“Marinette!” Tikki cried, snapping her from her spiel. “I promise we’ll discuss this later, but right now, Paris _needs_ you!”

Tikki’s sugar-coated way of saying: ‘Superheroing now. Pterodactyl screeching later.’

But even so, she had a point.

Her ever-patient kwami could talk her down later. Right now, Mr Ramier needed saving before he hurt someone – or more likely, himself.

Tikki pressed a little hand to her freckled nose. “Just remember, Marinette, with or without the mask, Adrien _is_ Chat Noir.” The soft smile on her lips shone in her eyes. “You make a wonderful team. You always have. I _know_ you can handle this!”

Eyes sliding shut, Marinette drew in a breath, exhaling a fraction of her nerves soon after. “You’re right. I can do this.” Her eyes snapped open. “Tikki, spots on!”

* * *

It took them a whopping fifty-two minutes to de-evilize Mr Pigeon.

Fifty.

Two.

Minutes.

Marinette had followed the incessant cooing and found Chat on a wide, cobblestone street—his staff in hand, arms flailing in an attempt to fend off a flock of swarming pigeons. Overcast as it was, his hair had glowed golden, leather wrapping his lean body, his cat-eyes as striking within the mask as they were without it.

All sense had left her at once.

That’d become wildly apparent the moment she’d webbed him with a dozen pigeons, sending him into a sneezing fit because—idiot idiot idiot—he’s _Adrien_ , who’s _allergic to feathers_ , which isn’t even _remotely_ _common_.

Unravelling him from her yo-yo should’ve taken seconds.

It’d taken at least a minute.

As painstaking as unravelling too-tight stitches from an old sewing project.

And throughout the battle, Chat had face-planted three billboards. All were ads for “Adrien: The Fragrance”, because _her akuma-fighting partner’s face was all over Paris_. Just like it’d once covered her _bedroom walls_.

When the fight was finally— _finally_ —over, Marinette landed at the peak of a slated rooftop and with a grunt, looped her yo-yo around a _very_ distant chimney—

“Ladybug!” called Chat, his gloved hand catching her wrist. “I...” His voice wobbled. “I need to talk to you.”

Bluebell eyes whipped over her shoulder and for a moment, Marinette simply stared.

At Chat.

At Adrien.

His cat-ears were flat, tail wilted, eyes shimmering like dew-dusted meadows.

Images haunted her mind’s eye.

A New York sewer, dark and foul and echoing her anguish.

A ring on sullied stone, as empty of his warmth as her clenching heart.

And the sound of his fading steps, each tap puncturing her tightened chest.

He was afraid—of endangering a civilian, of losing his Miraculous, of disappointing her all over again.

That just wouldn’t do.

Marinette zipped her yo-yo into her awaiting palm and after a near-drop, hooked it around her waist. His hand had fallen from her wrist, something she noticed as she faced him completely.

Him.

Adrien Agreste.

Her akuma-fighting partner.

“What—” Marinette’s voice cracked. With a clear of her throat, she tried again. “What is it, Chat?” Almost sounded like she was speaking into a fan, but at least she’d made words happen. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.” She reached forward. Stopped. Started again. She threaded her fingers with his own and immediately, the warmth of his touch—of _Adrien’s_ touch—quelled her trembling. “You’re my partner, my friend, my kitty”—a smile slowly eased across her lips—“and nothing will _ever_ change that.”

Chat gaped at her, eyes wide and wonderous, like she held the moon and the stars in the palm of her hand. “Marinette…”

She froze.

“She saw Plagg.”

Her everything slackened.

Faint quivers coursed through her hands and with a tug on her heart, Marinette realised they weren’t her own. Or rather, they _hadn’t_ been. She locked her knees, hoping to subdue the slight tremors that surged through her wobbling legs.

Chat dipped his chin. “It’s all my fault, Ladybug.” His voice, so heavy with shame, was heart-achingly familiar. “I was careless. I got caught up complaining about Mr Pigeon—”

Marinette opened her mouth, ready to remind him not to say too much.

But did that really matter anymore?

“—and now I’ve endangered someone I—”

His ring beeped, a second paw pad blinking from existence.

Chat spared his ring a glance, a ghost of a frown on his lips. “I’ve… endangered a civilian.” He gripped her hands tighter, as if hoping to imprint his own with her touch. “I’m afraid of someone else getting hurt because I was careless.”

Like a silent reassurance, she squeezed his hands right back.

His grip loosened on hers, if only a little.

“You’re sure she knows who you are, Chat?”

He tipped his head forward, his bangs like a curtain of gold across his face. “Even if Marinette didn’t recognise Plagg, I’m sure she connected the dots. She saw all the kwamis when we fought Kwamibuster and besides”—his lips quirked up just a hint—“she’s one of the smartest girls I know.”

Her heart fluttered. Stupidly so, given the circumstances.

As his head tilted up, his glassy-eyed gaze found her own. “I’m so sorry, Ladybug,” he whispered through shaky lips. “Will you…” His grip on her hands tightened all over again. “Are you going to take my Miraculous?”

She’d seen the question coming.

Still, nothing could’ve stopped the inevitable pang in her heart that came with it.

Her earrings beeped.

Three minutes.

For the moment, Marinette ignored the warning; he needed reassurance and this time, she’d be damned if she didn’t give it. Instead, her pigtails swayed with a shake of her head. “Silly kitty. Of course I won’t.” Delicately, she unthreaded their fingers, only to enclose his gloved hands between both of hers. “I meant what I said in New York. I can’t do this without you.” She hoped her smile—as watery as it was—echoed her sentiments ten-fold. “You’re my Chat Noir. The only one I could ever want by side. I’d sooner renounce my own Miraculous than be without my silly kitty.”

Chat gazed at her—his body completely still, peach pink lips steadily parting, eyes wide and unblinking.

_Beep beep beep!_

Another paw on his ring flashed from existence, snapping him from his stupor. “I— Uhh—” A few blinks later, his coherency resurfaced. “What about Marinette?”

“Do you…” She hoped he couldn’t feel her hands trembling in his. “Do you trust her?”

“I do.” His answer was immediate, full of conviction, and suddenly, Chat was no more than a blur of black and blond beyond her glittering eyes. “As much as I trust you.”

Marinette half-expected her heart to sprout wings and soar right out of her chest. “That,” she breathed, “is more than enough for me—”

Another beep of her earrings. 

Blinking away her blurry vision, she slowly unwound her fingers from his. Despite the magic suit, cool air clung to her latex-lined hands in a nanosecond. “You’d better go.” She took a step back, seeking her yo-yo. “We’ll talk more at our next patrol.”

Chat offered a nod, but his smile was heartachingly weak.

She almost— _almost_ —lunged for his wrist.

But he’d already turned on his heel.

“See you then, M’Lady.” Reaching behind him, he grabbed his staff in an oddly listless fashion, offered a fleeting wave, and with no bravado involved, vaulted in the direction of Collège Françoise Dupont.

Because they went to the same school.

Because they were in the same class.

Because he was Adrien Agreste.

And she was his partner.

It was a fact he deserved to know and by God, she was going to tell him.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I know. There hasn't been much hot cocoa so far (at the beginning, if you squint), but life stuff’s been getting in the way of my writing and I was nearing the deadline, so I’ve made this a two parter! Make sure you subscribe for the next part, which I'll have up ASAP! In the meantime, Happy Holidays! :D
> 
> If you’d like to get in on an awesome Miraculous community, join the [Miraculous Fanworks Discord server](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks)! :D
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://captainmeowvelwrites.tumblr.com)!


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